by Kit Tunstall
She nodded. “I understand.” Emily stepped in front of him again, and he cupped his hand over hers, lining up their arms. She was ready for the brunt of the swing this time, and her arm moved more smoothly. “This is for cutting the spinal cord?”
“And hacking off limbs, cutting deeply into trunks, and lopping off heads.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “If you get the chance, take off his head. Vampires can’t sprout a new one.”
She shuddered, picturing cutting off Koss’s head. Despite some of her darker impulses, she couldn’t embrace that image. “You mentioned five.”
“Yeah.” He supported her wrist when he brought the sword near her side. Suddenly, he pushed her arm forward, extending the sword out parallel to the ground with vicious force. “The thrust. If the enemy leaves himself open, that’s your best bet. Aim for his heart and twist the sword. Once he’s down on his knees—and even a vampire can’t withstand that kind of pain easily—you cut out his heart. Quick and brutal. He won’t show you any mercy.”
She nodded, imitating the movement again. “What else?”
“The last two are defensive moves.” He paused. “The truth is, I don’t think you’ll have much need for these. If you get in a position of a sword fight with Koss, it’s all over. You can’t beat him. Your best chance is to take him by surprise.”
“Show me,” she said forcefully. She didn’t even want to imagine facing Koss in battle with a sword as her only protection, but was determined to learn everything she could.
He nodded. “This is the block. It’s hard to show it to you without another swordsman. Basically, you just anticipate your opponent’s move and try to block his sword with yours.”
She gave the sword an experimental swing, grimacing as it pulled on her wrist. “And the last one?”
“The parry.” He positioned her in front of him. “Put your sword down, tip first. Yeah, that’s it. Line up the tip with the hilt. You wait until your opponent moves, and then you move your sword, just as his point draws near your blade.” He stepped away from her. “Let me show you.”
Emily held the sword at her side as Brannon walked to a wall of the weapons’ room where a rack of swords hung. He picked up the hilt of one unerringly before returning to her. “Go slow and easy, okay? I don’t think you can kill me, but I’m not a big fan of pain.”
She swallowed her nerves and grasped the sword. “I’m ready.”
“Okay.” He swung his sword in a small arc.
Emily brought up the sword and blocked him, pleased by the clang of steel against steel. When he came at her from the other direction, she blocked again. As he thrust at her, she dropped her sword into the vertical position to parry. She moved too slowly, and the tip of his sword sliced her arm. With a hiss of pain, she dropped the weapon.
“I’m sorry. How badly are you hurt?” Brannon laid his sword on the floor before approaching her.
“I’ll live.” The wound burned, but it was already closing. More damage had been done to her sweater than anything. She knelt to pick up her sword again. “Let’s go.”
“Are you sure? Maybe we should take a break.”
She shook her head. “No. I want to learn this.”
With a shrug, Brannon returned to pick up his sword. He stood still. “This time, you attack me.”
Emily went at him with a cut, which he blocked easily. She tried swinging from the other direction, and he blocked again. She was soon caught up in the rhythm of moving the sword and became accustomed to the weight, losing track of time as she kept swinging at Brannon, looking for an opening.
She finally saw one and brought back her arm to swing, not putting much strength to the swing since neither of them wore protective clothing. Her intention was to stop the point against his leg, but the sword clanged against another blade as she brought it forward. The shock caused her to drop the sword, and she turned to see Nicholas holding a weapon.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, anger evident, as he faced Brannon. “Do you know how irresponsible this is?”
“She’s doing well,” Brannon said in a mild tone.
Nicholas scoffed. “It’s a recipe for disaster, pairing a novice with a blind swordsman. You’re going to get killed, or she will.”
“That’ll save Koss the effort, won’t it?” She brought her hands to her hips, forcing his attention back to her by stepping into his line of vision. “I guess you planned to let me go into this defenseless. At least Brannon’s trying to help me.”
“Brannon’s going to get you killed. He’ll fill your head with stupid confidence, and you’ll be convinced you can take on the world.” He lowered his sword. “Don’t be a fool, Emily.”
“Should I wait for you to protect me? Look how well you’ve done that job for the last eight hundred years.” Even as she said it, Emily longed to call it back. She saw how white his complexion got and the way he swayed. She reached out to steady him, but arrested the motion upon seeing the anger in his eyes.
“Leave us, Brannon.”
“Nicholas—”
“Now! If she wants a lesson, I’ll give her one.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it vibrated with anger.
Brannon crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not going to let you hurt her.”
“This is between us. She’ll walk away.” He turned his back on his nephew to meet Emily’s eyes. Rage burned in his black depths. “Tell him to go, Emily.”
She swallowed her fear and nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
“Emily, you don’t know—”
“Please.” Fear hummed in her veins, but so did a curious sense of excitement. “I want to do this.”
He left the weapons’ room, muttering under his breath. When he had gone, Nicholas gestured toward her sword. “Pick it up.”
She pursed her lips and bent to retrieve the sword. With a false sense of bravado, she lifted it and faced him. “I’m rea—” Before she had finished speaking, he thrust forward with his sword. She barely deflected it in time, and didn’t get a chance to counter his cut. He sliced through her shoulder in the blink of an eye, causing tears to well in her eyes.
Emily retaliated by thrusting the sword at him, but he parried easily and countered with a hard swing. Her hand broke under the stress of the blow, and she dropped the sword, cradling her hand against her chest. She could feel the bone reforming, and the pain brought tears to her eyes. Before she could surrender, he sliced her leg with his sword. She cried out and fell to her knees.
“That’s how fast it would be over for you. Look at you.” His tone was scathing, as was his gaze when it raked her. “You’re bleeding and two seconds from collapsing. I haven’t even broken into a sweat.”
“Yeah, you’re amazing,” she said, maintaining her front of courage as her hand finished healing, and the pain faded. She tossed her head, sending waves of chestnut hair cascading down her back. Her eyes widened when he brought the tip of the sword against her throat. She leaned back automatically as he pressed closer. Even when she fell backwards onto the stone floor, he didn’t let up. Instead, he pressed the tip in deeper. She raked her fangs over her lips when she drew in a breath as hot pain flared in her neck. “Please.”
“If I were Koss, you’d already be dead.” He kept the sword steady against her throat. “He has no pity. Don’t you understand? If he gets past Brannon or me, you’re as good as dead.”
She swallowed as he jabbed her once more before withdrawing the sword. She touched her throat and found a wound oozing blood. “You want me to be defenseless?”
He held out a hand to help her up.
She accepted it warily, wondering if he would attack her again. Instead, he pulled her to her feet, and she stood beside him. She was so close she could smell the trace of copper on his breath, indicating he had fed recently. She licked her lips without thought as she stared at the artery pounding in his throat.
“You are helpless against him.”
She wrenched her gaze from his neck to meet his
eyes, not missing the dart of desire in his eyes when she stepped closer. “Show me something. Anything. I want to be able to defend myself.”
He cleared his throat as he stepped away. He stopped to lift her sword and Brannon’s before carrying all three to the wall and returning them to their positions. Then he moved to a rack of daggers, studying them for a moment before lifting a short one with a thin blade. He returned to her and held it out.
Emily looked down at the dagger doubtfully. She lifted it from his hand. “A dagger didn’t help Erin.”
He looked startled. “What dagger?”
She turned over the dagger, examining the intricate design of the handle as she spoke. “She’d had a witch put a spell on the dagger, but it made no difference. Koss took it through the heart and pulled it out easily enough.” She looked up when Nicholas’s hand fastened on her arm.
“Why? Why would she do that?”
She licked her lips, remembering Nicholas hadn’t known about Erin’s gifts. “She had a vision about Koss. She knew he would come that night and tried to be ready. She didn’t tell you about her abilities because she knew she would have to tell you about her fate.” She couldn’t keep the pleading from her voice when she said, “Don’t leave me as vulnerable as she was. I don’t want to die that way.”
He looked stricken as he reeled away from her. “She knew he was coming. Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She thought you would be killed as well if you stayed at Vallsade Manor.” Emily bowed her head. “She didn’t know they would stay around to torture you after her death.”
He shook his head. “How could she keep it from me all those years? I had no idea. I was surprised when she didn’t develop even an iota of psychic ability, but she said she must not be suited for it.” A harsh laugh escaped him. “She lied to me for eighteen years.”
Emily took a step toward him. “She was protecting you.”
“She didn’t even give me the chance to save her or our daughter,” he said with a snarl as he turned on her, gathering her in his arms. “She was a blind fool. She should have known she didn’t stand a chance—”
“She did,” Emily interrupted. “That’s why she made you promise to change me, before she even came to Vallsade Manor. She knew how she would die. Erin knew things…things I can’t begin to remember.”
He sagged against her, and his chin rested on the top of her head. “How could she have made that decision without me? She chose her fate and our daughter’s.”
“She thought she was making the right choice.”
“She was wrong.” His tone lacked the anger of before. In its place was weary acceptance. “She had no right.”
“So you’re saying it was wrong of her to make choices without consulting you, even if she thought they were for the best?” Emily tried to be gentle with her prodding.
He lifted his head to meet her eyes. “What are you getting at?”
“I know you think you’re doing what’s best for me, but it should be my decision whether I want to go back to New York, or if I want to stay here with you.” She touched his cheek, waiting to see if he would push her away. “Your pretense won’t fool Koss. All it will do is hurt both of us.”
He flinched. “What pretense?”
She pressed herself closer to him. “I know you’re trying to convince yourself you don’t love me so Koss won’t hurt me, but it’s too late. He’ll kill me anyway, even if you make yourself believe our love is dead.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, taking a chance. “I don’t want to spend my last few days fighting with you or hurting because of you. I want to be with you.”
He remained stiff in her embrace. “Emily, we can’t do this. You have to go home. I can’t lose you again.”
She pressed her cheek against his chest, clinging to him when he tried to push her away. “What do I have to go home to? My place is with you now. It took me a long time to realize that, but now I know who I am and who I was.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze. “I know how I felt about you, and I know how I feel now, although you’ve done your best to dissuade me the last few days.”
“Emily—”
“I love—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips. “No, don’t say it. You’ll seal your fate.”
She turned her head to free her lips. “I love you. I’d rather spend a week in your arms than an eternity away from you. If my love for you means my death, I can accept that.”
He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Your life’s been turned around. You’ve gone from hating me to loving me in a few days?” he asked with more than a hint of skepticism in his tone. “I don’t think so.”
She nodded forcefully. “I know how I feel. Once the pieces fell into place, it all made sense. I just needed to regain my memory.”
He shook his head more emphatically. “It’s fear, that’s all. You’ve realized there is more evil in the world than just me. I seem safe in comparison to Koss, so you think you have to align with me. You don’t. I’m prepared to let you go if we defeat Koss. You don’t have to buy my protection. After what I did to you, I owe you—”
She sighed at his stubbornness. “Answer one question for me.”
He eyed her with obvious trepidation. “What?”
“Do you love me? Or did you mean it when you said you wanted to move on? I can’t ever replace Erin, because though I have her soul, I’m not her. I’m not Emma, Erukán, or Elspeth either. I’m just me. Emily. If you can’t love me as me, then I’ll leave. But if you do love me, tell me, for God’s sake. Don’t waste what may be our last few days together.” She tightened her hold on him. “Am I enough for you?” She held her breath, awaiting his answer.
Chapter Seventeen
He cupped her face in his hands. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?”
Emily nodded. “Yes. At least, I hope I do.” She pressed her body closer to his, feeling proof of his arousal against her hip. “Do you want me?”
He groaned, but didn’t answer.
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you love me?”
“You know I do.” Nicholas sounded as if the admission hurt as it was wrenched from him. “Jesus, Emily, you know I love you.”
She sagged against him, so relieved by his admission that tears came to her eyes. She began sobbing, and he patted her back in an awkward display of comfort. Burrowing closer, she inhaled, enjoying the smell and feel of him.
“Why are you crying? Are you upset? Isn’t this what you wanted?” There was a note of confusion mingled with distress in his voice.
She shook her head, unable to speak. Instead, she clung to him until she was able to stem the flow of tears and catch her breath. She lifted her head and gazed into his eyes, seeing his concern, but more importantly, feeling it. Their minds were bonding as they had the night his father died, but this time their common link was pleasure, not grief. She stretched on her toes to press her lips to his as she saw him picturing her do that. He didn’t pretend to resist, she noted with satisfaction, as her mouth moved over his. Emily softened her lips against his at the same time as she brought up her hands to tangle them in his hair.
His lips seemed determined to mold themselves to hers as he crushed his mouth on hers. Emily moaned under the onslaught, as she pressed closer still. Warmth spread through her stomach and moved to her pussy. Her nipples hardened as his tongue stroked hers, and she responded in kind.
She lowered her hands to his shirt, tearing at the cotton pullover to pull it free from the waist of his jeans. She pushed up the red material and stroked his firm skin, pausing to trace his abs with her fingertips. Emily broke the kiss to lower her head to taste him, licking his stomach and up his lightly furred chest, to the vein above his heart.
With more leisure than hunger, her fangs penetrated his skin. Nicholas’s blood flowed into her mouth, and she lapped it away as each drop beaded on her tongue. His hands were at the hem of her sweater, pushing it up. As his nails dug int
o the flesh of her back, she arched against him, lifting her head to meet his gaze, seeing the red burning in his eyes. She knew hers must reflect the same thing, and reveled in her lack of control.
“My room,” he said in a husky tone as he pushed the sweater over her head, snagging her arms in the sleeves for a moment before he was able to work it free. He threw it away from them.
She shook her head. “It’s too far away. I want you now, Nicholas.” Emily pulled off his shirt and tossed it into the corner to join hers. A line of blood oozed down his chest from the wound she had made, and she caught it at his nipple, licking it away before pausing to lave the rigid peak. He gasped, and her pussy tingled with spreading warmth.
With an impatient growl, Nicholas unhooked her bra and ripped it away, breaking the straps in the progress. She winced at the brief pain, but he soon distracted her by lifting her into his arms, and Emily locked her legs around his waist as he walked. She jerked with surprise when her back touched the cool stone of the weapons’ room, having thought he was taking her to his room. She kept her legs locked around his waist as his mouth dipped down to taste her nipple. The bud tightened under his tongue, and she groaned when his incisor raked across her sensitive flesh, leaving a shallow furrow. The tang of her blood on his tongue flooded her mouth, increasing her arousal even more, and she rotated her hips against his hard cock.
Emily pressed her back against the wall and splayed her arms, offering her breasts for his consumption. As he continued suckling, one of his hands cupped the neglected breast, and his fingers lightly pinched that nipple. Emily ground her pussy against his cock, feeling it spasm against the confines of his jeans.
She brought her hands to his waistband to unsnap the jeans before undoing the zipper. His cock pressed against the cotton barrier of his briefs, and she stroked him, feeling him harden even more under her fingers. A cry escaped her when Nicholas lifted his head from her breast as he pushed her against the wall, holding her against it with his lower body pinned against hers. Her pussy fluttered when he pushed his cock against her.